


echoes of a city that's long overgrown

by seventhstar



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Memory Loss, Mind Control, aka yuuma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3760222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>vector obliterates yuuma with chaos. eliphas purges him of it. noncon, foil/negativeshipping, eliphas/yuuma, memory loss, mind control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	echoes of a city that's long overgrown

There was something in his head.

Yuuma’s nails dug into his scalp, his skull throbbing with agony, as the piece of pink glowing stone embedded in his forehead pulsed with power that shattered his thoughts and dug through his memories and began to empty out his brain. Things were vanishing, knowledge flowing away, and all Yuuma knew was pain and the awful feeling that he was losing something, something precious that could never be replaced.

Vector’s voice, Vector-Shingetsu’s treacherous white face and smile, and Yuuma stared at him, trying to think past the pain and understand. He was shoved down and turned over and Vector’s weight settled down atop him; what was happening, he didn’t know.

Fabric tore as his pants were ripped off, and Vector laughed horribly, and the pieces came together for a moment. For a moment Yuuma knew that Vector was going to fuck him, and he had to endure the sickening feeling in his stomach as Vector forced himself inside him, and then he forgot again.

Understanding was always just out of reach; the light in his brain would not let him have it. But the pain remained.

Yuuma screamed and thrashed, Vector’s hands pressing down on his head and back to keep him from escaping. It hurt. It was much worse than he had ever imagined anything could be, nothing like the way he had hoped it would be, and what it was was already gone. And now he was losing other things.

The voice that mocked him, it was now a stranger’s voice, and the world around him, what world was it? Where was he? And why did he ache, why did it burn, why were his fingers leaving indentations of his struggling in the ground?

There was a string around his wrists, holding them close together, half a golden pendant dangling from it; the sight of it hurt his eyes and when he closed them it was gone, and so was his memory of it.

Something was inside him, moving frantically in and out, shoving his face into the dirt. There was a violation of his body happening, Yuuma thought, and then his name slipped away and the hands that scrambled for purchase in the dry ground, the hands that looked like his father’s, they were new to him again. They were merely hands.

The pain did not lessen, but it was unimportant; the pace of the thrusting slowed and the weight atop him increased, pointless words of mockery in his ear. He knew that something had occurred, but he felt nothing.

After all, feeling would not help him serve the Barian World. He waited for his orders.

++++++++++

The servant of Barian World dueled his way through the gap between the Parallel Worlds.

His expression never changed, and the light in his eyes, the pink-red gift of the Barian World, never flickered. There was no mercy in him, no anger against his foes (who all fell), nothing that could make him raise his voice or make one movement that was anything less than necessary.

He walked from the Barian World through the desert borderlands, through sandstorms and monster horde, without pause. He had been ordered to not stop, so he continued, even when the sweat dripped into his eyes and blinded him, even when his clothes were nothing but shreds, even when his will was all the that moved him.

The servant of Barian World arrived at the gates of the Astral World in tatters, but that did not matter. He obeyed. He attacked.

+++++++++++

There were no commands left to follow, so when the enemy defeated him, the servant did not move. He remained still as he was grasped by the shoulder and lifted up off the ground, and he dangled in midair as he was subjected to the bright blue aura of the Astral’s power. It went through his skin, into his blood. It caused him pain.

There was a spark, and for a moment he knew. And then the spark faded, and the servant did not move.

The enemy spoke, and then he was dropped onto the stone. The enemy sat down, in front of him, and snatched him up and set him on his lap. Where their skin touched, there were blue flashes of light; knowledge buried in the depths of the servant’s thoughts stirred. The rubble of the purge was disturbed, but the servant still did nothing as the enemy gripped his hips firmly and lifted him. He was penetrated slowly, the fingers on his hip dragging him down; he had not been ordered to protect himself, so the pain was ignored and the servant did not resist.

But as he was thrust into, his heart began to beat fast, and his skin began to crawl; Astral light met the Barian power coiled around his self, the bonds of brainwashing began to loosen, and…

…suddenly, the pain was not so irrelevant. The servant shifted as the words began to flow again; there was a name for the enemy, Eliphas, and details became clear where they had been dismissed. He was huge, in every way, and he was hurting him, and that mattered. It mattered that he was being…that he was being…

…fucked. The word bubbled up, and there was a phantom pain alongside the real one, terrible laughter overlaid with Eliphas’s breathing. There were no orders for this, but his body began to move again, writhing, struggling futilely. He did not want this, and there it was,  _wanting_. The servant cried out, in pain and in fear and in confusion. Why was this…why was this happening again?

The act of asking why unlocked something in him, and he reclaimed his broken body then, stole it back from the grasp of the Barian World that owned him even as Eliphas took him still. The hands were his hands, calloused in familiar ways, and the world all blue and crystal suddenly held some interest, and there was something…something important to him, that had been taken…?

 _My name is Yuuma,_  he thought, and then he realized that he was being forced to ride Eliphas, Eliphas who had said he would purge him of chaos, Eliphas who was hurting him, and he screamed himself hoarse as Eliphas finished inside him.

He was battered; there had been no rest for a servant of the Barian World, and Eliphas left him lying on the floor of the Astral World’s palace. Yuuma closed his eyes and whispered his name to himself, over and over; he had that, at least, even though he could not dream of moving, even thought it seemed there was not much else.


End file.
